Code
by trufflemores
Summary: Cisco calls Barry for help.


The wash of blue-black light makes Cisco's heart rate _climb_.

Looking around himself, he tries to familiarize himself with the space. He's in Star Labs, in the containment room, staring at the archway that should have contained the Reverse-Flash but didn't ( _it malfunctioned, they had no choice, it was his freedom or Dr. Wells' life_ ). He draws in deep, cold breaths and wonders where all the air went, his fingertips going numb with fear as he stares at the archway, inching closer.

He flips the switch on and the Reverse-Flash _materializes_ , he's right there, except – he can't be.

Cisco stares, head pounding, and hears the Reverse-Flash speak and it's warbled, he should be able to pick out but his _heart_ is _pounding_ and something bad, something really, really bad is about to happen.

And then the doors slide open and he hears a voice, too familiar, echo: "You might say I am the Reverse."

He turns and Dr. Wells is _standing_ there, he isn't wearing his glasses and he doesn't have his chair and he looks so calm, too calm, that Cisco feels his stomach sink. He looks like an _animal,_ a predator in close range, aware that no matter how fast its prey runs it will be able to sink its teeth in before it gets far.

Tiger-like, he prowls closer. Cisco is rooted to the spot, intimately aware that he is going to die, he is going to die, and he can't let it happen but he can't _move_.

And even if he does, he knows, Wells is faster.

He wouldn't make it three steps before Wells went for the jugular, ended his life before he even knew it was over.

So he stands there and stares into his eyes, unable to process why this is happening, why the Reverse-Flash is still in the containment system, why Dr. Wells is looking at him with such utter, implacable apathy.

 _I have to call Barry,_ Cisco thinks, but his hands won't move and even Barry isn't that fast, and somewhere, distantly, he can tell Barry is in trouble, Barry is in really, really big trouble, and he couldn't help Cisco even if he wanted to.

Wells is barely three feet away now, and Cisco's aware of the tears on his face because _why are you doing this_ , but he knows why, _he should know why_ , except then Wells' hand vibrates, angling for his heart, and Cisco shouts, " _No, no, no, NO._ "

It sinks into his chest and he feels an instant of breathtaking, unimaginable _pain_ as fire shears his heart into pieces, and then he's –

Awake, gasping for air, clutching his chest and staring wild-eyed at the space around him, trying to process it: he's in Star Labs, it's very late, he's alone, what the _hell_ is he doing here, Wells is going to kill him—

He fishes out his phone with numb hands and hits _SOS_.

Doubling over, he tries to remember how to breathe when it feels like his chest is caving inward, like Wells took his heart and he's going to _die_.

There's a _whoosh_ as papers fly off the desk and then Barry's there.

"Hey," he says, a little breathless, like running after waking up isn't the smartest move in the world, and Cisco should feel guilty about it but Cisco is also about to pass out, so he says nothing as Barry crouches in front of him, brow furrowed, eyes worried. "Cisco?"

"I can't breathe," Cisco says, clutching his collar, and he _can_ , he can feel it, but there's a frailness to it that scares him, like it could stop at any moment, Wells could _kill him_ and Wells is here, he knows it, Wells is here and he's going to die—

"Hey, hey," Barry says, hauling him to his feet, and there's a rush and then they're outside and it's breathtaking how different it is. "It's okay," he tells Cisco, chafing warmth back into his arms. "I get them too. It's okay."

Cisco doesn't register anything he's saying other than _it's okay_ and _it's gone_ , pulling him into a tight hug that Barry doesn't resist, and Barry has Joe's hugs, big, bear hugs that don't break your ribs but do reinforce the fact that _nothing_ can hurt you while Barry's around.

When he feels less like he's going to pass out, he slowly releases Barry, feeling Barry's relieved exhalation as he steps back.

Cisco closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath, collects his cool.

Feels a blush overtaking his face regardless because he panicked over a _dream_. "I'm sorry," he says, because without the adrenaline he feels childish, incapable, like he should have _handled it_ , and Barry's seen so much worse shit and he's pulled himself together _fine—_

"Don't be," Barry interrupts, very seriously, and he isn't wearing the suit but he looks every bit the _Flash_ as he stands in front of him. "No one chooses that."

Unable to meet his eyes, Cisco looks aside.

Barry puts a hand on his shoulder, gives it a light shake, and says firmly, "I'm _glad_ you called me, okay?"

Cisco nods, blows out a long breath. He doesn't know what it means, any of it, why it felt so real, why he could _feel_ his heart being torn apart, but he knows that it's not a conversation he wants to have because Barry will smile and tell him that Wells is _not_ evil even though –

 _Yes, Barry, he is._

Shaking off the eerily _prescient_ nature of the statement, Cisco manages a smile and says, "Thank you."

"Any time," Barry says, means it, and in the predawn light Cisco begins to believe it, too, that no matter where he is, no matter what time it is, Barry will always be there, trying to help, to _save them,_ and he wonders where the sense that Barry was in danger came from but doesn't question it. Barry's fine now, and so is he, and they'll both fight like hell if they have to to keep it that way.

"You know," Barry muses, thoughtfully folding his arms across his chest, and Cisco's grateful for his nonchalance, for his ability to step back and let Cisco _breathe_ as his heart rate slowly comes down, "I never did get to see Star Labs' lasers."

And Cisco needs answers but he also needs _reprieve,_ they've all been overextending themselves lately, trying to keep up with Captain Cold and Heat Wave and, well –

"They are pretty damn cool," he admits, grinning.

. o .

Which is why Caitlin finds them carving letters onto sheets of metal later that morning.

"What are you two doing?" she asks, setting her bag on the ground as they pause, pulling down their protective goggles and looking at her.

"Writing dirty words in Latin," Cisco replies, "want in?"

Caitlin sighs and Barry says, "Dammit, I misspelled it," and Cisco can't help the grin that crosses his face or the sweep of gratitude he feels that these nerds are his _friends_.

And _whatever_ happens, they're going to get through it.


End file.
